Chapter Text
Everything was dark and empty. His head was hurting despite the complete silence and he had the nagging feeling that he wasn’t alone in an empty space. It felt like he was just unable to notice what was happening around him, like standing in the middle of an airport with a blindfold and headphones on so you couldn’t sense the people around you. He felt like all he had to do was turn around or open his eyes, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t .
“...showed some signs… we still have hope that he might…. You should talk to….”
Whose voice was that? And what were they saying? He could make out some words but putting them together and making sense of them seemed impossibly hard. Maybe he was just asleep and this was a strange nightmare. In that case he might be able to wake himself up if he just kept reminding himself that this was just a dream and that he could open his eyes at any time and put an end to this. Waking up couldn’t be that hard? He tried to ignore the person he heard in favour of focusing on waking himself up. -Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream. Open your eyes and it’s over, just open your eyes and stop it.-
Something was actually happening, his head felt a little less heavy and he could sense his own breathing, he felt that he was lying down and that his skin was touching something more or less soft. His senses seemed to be coming back slowly and he could feel a muscle twitch in his face, apparently this nightmare was coming to an end.
Suddenly, without all that much effort, his eyes were open.
Some idiot had left the ceiling light on, it was way too bright and he had to blink several times before he could actually see what was going on around him.
There was a person sitting on his right side, slightly leaning over the bed that he had apparently been sleeping in. Dark curly hair fell over the man’s forehead and bright blue-green eyes were looking at him in wonder. He felt like he should recognise that face, but he couldn’t think of anything more specific than that.
“He’s awake.” the man’s lips had moved as his low voice had made a rather obvious statement. What the hell was going on? Why was this man watching him sleep and who was he talking to?
At least the second question could be answered rather quickly when he managed to turn his head to the left, where a young woman was standing next to his bed.
“Hello? Can- you- hear- me?” she asked while looking at him and saying every word very slowly and rather loudly considering he had just woken up.
“Of course I can hear you.” Unfortunately his answer was quickly interrupted by a cough that made him very aware of how dry his mouth felt. He must have had a bit too much to drink the night before, what kind of trouble had he gotten himself into?
“It’s all right Sir, here try to have a sip of water but please be careful. If you drink too quickly it could make you feel nauseous.” The upper part of the bed was moving, putting him in a slightly more upright position and she carefully held a half-empty plastic cup to his lips which he decided to drink from, despite the strange gesture.
Once the cup was empty he felt like he might be able to speak a full sentence without being interrupted by a coughing fit. Waking up with two people standing next to one’s bed was certainly not a normal situation and this room didn’t look familiar either. Considering the lingering headache, his dry mouth and the woman’s comment about nausea, he must have had too much alcohol the night before. How that had landed him in this unfamiliar place with two people by his bed was still unclear though.
“What is going on, where am I and…” Suddenly he realised that the unfamiliar place and people might not be the only problem. Because he should be able to remember another place that would be familiar. His bedroom or his house, but he couldn’t think of any place where he should have woken up instead. He tried to think of a person, maybe a partner or friend who could be there when he was drunk and needed help, but he couldn’t think of anyone. In fact, he couldn’t really make any sense of who he was or where he should be at all.
“Sir, you had an accident three days ago, do you remember what happened?”
“No, I don’t… What accident?”
“You were in a taxi when it was hit by a bus at an intersection. Your head hit the side window and you were unconscious when you were brought to the hospital.”
Hospital. That made sense considering the slightly uncomfortable bed and the bright lights. He had been in an accident. He should probably remember his cab getting hit by a damn bus, but no matter how hard he tried, his brain just wouldn’t come up with the corresponding pictures.
“I uhm… I don’t remember any of that, is that… Shouldn’t I remember that?”
“Head injuries can cause confusion for some people, sometimes they can’t remember the day of the accident very well. Do you remember anything from before that, maybe where you were going or what you were doing the previous day?”
He tried to think again. There must be something in his brain that he could access if he tried to remember what had happened to him. The headache was getting worse again and he felt himself start to panic a little. All he could think of was this room, the woman next to him who was apparently a nurse and the man who was still sitting on the right side, just looking at him as if he was fascinated by what was going on.
“I don’t. I can’t really think of anything to be honest. I don’t know… Who I am?” Saying this out loud made the panic rise even more and he had to actively try to control his breathing now. He couldn’t have forgotten who he was ?
The nurse gave him a little smile and excused herself, saying she was going to get his doctor who would be able to be of more help in this situation. This left him alone with the man who was still silently looking at him. He was getting a little impatient now. It was obvious that whatever had happened to his head during that accident had affected his memory, a doctor would probably confirm that but what he wanted now was a quick summary of who he was and how he had ended up in a road accident.
“So… what’s my name? And where was I going before that accident? What happened?” He looked at the man who twitched when he realised he was being talked to. The other man actually looked just as uncomfortable as he felt himself.
“I… I don’t know where you were going. Sorry.” he could hear people walking past the door and talking to each other while he waited for the man to continue talking.
“You were coming back from a trip so… I suppose you were on your way home actually.” So he had been travelling, maybe that could help. He tried to think of any memories he might have of boarding an airplane or stepping on a train, maybe he had eaten a sandwich or read a book?
“Right. Can’t remember any of that… Not where I was or how I got there.” He took another deep breath to calm down.
“Jim, you-”
“Jim?” So that was his name. Jim. How simple. He tried to imagine what it would look like on a piece of paper. He must have written it thousands of times during his life but it didn’t sound any more familiar than the mention of a trip or an accident involving a bus.
“Yes. Well, James actually but you never really used that, it was always just Jim.”
He quickly tried to do the same mental exercise with James but it didn’t lead to any revelation.
“And uh… What’s your name?”
The man paused for a second before he answered. It was probably a strange situation for him to talk to someone close to him, but who couldn’t remember him at all.
“Sherlock.”
“I’m dating a guy called Sherlock ?”
“Dating?! We-”
“Here we are! This is Doctor Holden he will ask you some questions and try to answer yours in turn. I will be back later with some soup.” The nurse had returned with a middle-aged man by her side who was smiling politely as he entered the room.
He asked several questions about Jim’s memories, which were all answered the same way because he still didn’t magically remember what had happened to him. The doctor then continued to explain that memory loss after a head injury was not uncommon, although most patients would only be missing a few hours or days of their lives.
When it came to the question of whether these lost memories would come back, he tried to be rather vague, saying things such as “different for every patient” and “you should try to take things slow”. They then scheduled an appointment for the next day, where Jim would have to go through some scans to see if they could find a physical reason for his lack of memories.
“Now before I go, Mr uhm…?” The doctor looked at Sherlock who had been quiet again during the whole consultation.
“Holmes.”
“Mr Holmes, now I’m sure this is hard for you as well, but please make sure not to overwhelm your partner with too much information. While telling him about past memories can generally be helpful, giving him a rundown of his complete life could just as well prove to be upsetting.” Dr Holden then wished them a nice evening and left the room through the door on the left through which he had walked in earlier.
“Is my brain just very damaged or was that really unhelpful?” He turned his head to the right to look at Sherlock who had barely said goodbye to the doctor.
“Nope, not helpful at all, standard talk.” He leaned back in his chair and looked like he was about to go back to silently sitting there.
“Alright so let’s try to make sense of this. All I know is that my name is Jim, I’m in hospital because I am apparently really bad at choosing a skilled cab driver and I have absolutely no memories apart from a vague feeling that I know you.”
“You do?” Sherlock leaned back towards the bed now, apparently gaining interest in the conversation.
“Yes, sort of. When I saw you I felt like I should know who you are, I just couldn’t find a name.” He paused for a few seconds while studying Sherlock’s face. The man looked like he was somewhere between worried and surprised.
“Which is weird because Sherlock doesn’t sound like a name I would forget.” He added with a little smile.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and rose to get up so he could pull the chair closer to the bed. As Jim could tell from where he was lying, he was quite lean and taller than the doctor who had been in the room earlier. Apparently he had made some good choices before losing his memories because most people probably wouldn’t look this handsome in the light of neon tubes.
“Just teasing… At least one of us has a cool name and a bunch of memories to make sense of what’s going on.” He smiled at the tall man who was getting back into his chair now.
If only he knew how they had met. How long they had known each other and what their relationship had been like. Not knowing anything about his life and the people in it felt utterly wrong. How could he forget everything about the person who was now sitting next to him, who had probably been worried about him for days only to find out he’d lost his memories.
Jim slowly lifted his head, the doctor had done a quick physical check earlier and had found nothing wrong with him apart from a few bruises.
Slowly dragging himself closer to the edge of the bed, Jim reached for Sherlock’s left hand and held it in his right.
“I’m sorry I’ll forget all our anniversaries because I don’t even remember when we first met or how our first kiss went.” He had tried to make it a joke but somehow the tone of his voice wasn’t as uplifting as he had wanted.
“Jim…” Sherlock sighed, looking at their hands, then at Jim’s face.
“Can you… Sit with me?” Jim pulled the sheets away from the side of the bed to make some space.
“Jim, I’m not sure that’s-”
“Please, it can’t make my memories worse, I just…” Slowly pulling on Sherlock’s hand, he convinced the other man to sit next to him on the bed so he could lean against him.
Sherlock felt soft and warm, definitely nicer than the sheets on his bed. He moved his face into the crook of the taller man’s neck. He smelled nice too, there was a lingering scent of perfume or aftershave. Unfortunately being close to Sherlock didn’t bring back any memories either, but unlike the mention of the accident and the previous trip, it just felt right .
Jim didn’t feel like anything the nurse had told him made sense for him. She might as well have told him that he got hit on the head while playing golf or that he had been in a fight. Nothing about the accident had seemed familiar, but for some reason this did.
He hadn’t felt very comfortable with the nurse or the doctor and he definitely didn’t get the urge to cuddle with the latter when he had touched him for the examination.
Touching Sherlock was an entirely different feeling, maybe a part of his body did remember this? Even if he couldn’t access any memories, he might still be able to subconsciously remember some things that were important to him. Perhaps he would feel the same way about other things once he would get out of the hospital.
For now he felt content knowing that a part of him seemed to remember Sherlock and that meant all hope was not lost yet.